My eyes rest on their blonde heads just seconds before my hands and
fingers run through their hair. I watch their faces, just about mirrored
images as they laugh, and I feel my chest and stomach warm. I feel my
tight mouth loosen into a wide smile, and inside I know I am the
happiest woman in the checkout line. I allow the happiness to soak in
and loosen me… I might even start to sway ever so slightly.

I
position our cart as to minimize access to strategically placed
chocolate bars and crappy magazines, I feel my round stomach against the
edge of the shopping cart. My body is full and aching after an
afternoon of grocery shopping with three children, two of them wildly
orbiting outside of myself, and one of them wildly inside. I recently
told a therapist that I have three children, without ever thinking
twice. She did a double take when I gave her their ages, and revealed
that I was counting the one inside too.

I wonder if she will
look like them - blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale. I wonder if she will
be as wild outside as she is inside. Will she be their missing piece?
Will she fill our cup right up to the brim?

If I analyze it too
deeply, I feel guilty for imagining our family is a cup to fill or a
puzzle that needs to be completed… that there is a finite amount of
space or numbered empty slots, and it depends on me, and perhaps my
husband, to figure out just how many we need to fill that void. Because
its horrible and silly to think there is ever a void. Or is it terrible
that there actually is one?

A few weeks ago I broke into tears
at the thought that this might be the last baby I birth. That these
kicks are the last ones, that this is the last time my belly will be
this full, that this will be the last miracle my body is home for.
Images of abandoned and vacant buildings come to mind, and I can relate
to them; things that glimmered are now becoming dull from the wear and
tear. The sharp edges of my trim are becoming rounded at the corners,
chipped, and flat-out busted in some spots. This pregnancy has been my
toughest, my most isolating, my most exhausting, my saddest… am I
actually crazy enough to think that I could survive this season again,
with not two, but three wild children? Can my body even endure another
pregnancy, horrible or not?

I don’t want it to end like this. I
cannot let this season of my life end with me so defeated. I want to
finish with grace, with the blissful and healthy pregnancy that I know I
can have. The one where I glow, and smile, and shop, eat all the right
foods, exercise every day - and not the one where I shut the bathroom
door and cry just about every night for reasons I cannot even make a list for.

Except
for guilt. Guilt I can pinpoint, it is ever present and palpable. Guilt for not smiling more. Guilt for not being stronger.
Guilt for being so proud. Guilt for even the possibility that I might
not even want another child, but just another pregnancy. Guilt for
crying over a bad pregnancy when I am carrying a healthy baby. Guilt for
being disappointed when I have two healthy, happy, and beautiful
children. Guilt for being inpatient with them when they are trying to put on their shoes. Guilt for considering risking the better part of a year of
their lives, once more. Guilt for being miserable, unsociable, tired…
for not getting out of pajamas, not answering phone calls, and for wanting
to curl up under a thick blanket for the next three months. Guilt for
not loving every minute of this.

The kids fight over who will put
the marshmallows on the belt in the checkout lane. My hands continue to ruffle their hair
and allow them to work out the half-smashed marshmallows. One minute
they scream and screech, the next they laugh with dancing eyes. I watch
them most every moment of the day and we share it all… we are in this
together. I do love these moments. Our lives are all so closely knit
that it is hard to know where my finger-tips end and their scalps begin.
They touch my belly, the home of their sister - a common-place they
have all shared. The body of the woman they all still share, and I know that
this is really the best I could ever be. Just to be there now with my sore
body. To be their mom with my sad, and happy, and full, and broken
heart. To be mother to one or to two, three, or four - to all of them.
To allow myself to be stretched and to cry, and to laugh, and to hold
them all so tight. To find strength in the exhaustion…

I run my
fingers over the two blonde heads in the checkout line, I feel my hips
sway very slightly, and the baby kick, and I am the happiest woman in the world.

So, I have been making busy tearing apart our house and putting it all back together in a more orderly-ish fashion. Trying to simplify, organize, and pack stuff to move. Yes, we are getting ready to move. We are planning on listing our home sometime in the next couple weeks, so anything that is not essential, or unsightly has been sorted through, some of it given away, and some of it packed up (although i think eventually some most of what i packed away might become "give-away" when i open up all those boxes). It feels good to have less stuff sitting around, it's much easier to keep things tidy, and nobody seems to miss any of it. Funny how moving can jump-start your motivation to clean house.

The other day I straightened up Chloe's room - it took me less than two minutes. It made me happy to see it looking good, so I snapped a few photos with my phone, and thought I would share them here. It's not a very big space, and like the rest of our home, has been a work in progress over the years. Starting with just a painted room, a crib, and a small dresser; art-work being hung every so often, bed linens made when needed, a sheet made into a curtain., leftover Halloween decorations reclaimed, etc., a little mish-mosh of stuff acquired. Chloe is happy in the space, and the simplicity of it makes me happy too.

Sources: balloon wall decals from here, furniture from ikea, skeleton light garland and jack-o-lantern "night-light" from target, quilt and weaving made by me.

Gregor: very aware of all that is happening around him, and will stop nursing if he knows I am trying to sneak a photo of him.

Chloe: rummaging through my jewelry box, while sharing some hot chocolate with me, while her brother naps.

Portraits were taken with my iPhone this week as it was handy and caught the moments that I wasn't willing to risk missing by running to grab my real camera. They are not as good of quality as my real camera, but these were special moments that I spent with each of my kids that I want to remember.